


My Proxy

by Cakedae



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: M/M, SciFiAu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakedae/pseuds/Cakedae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hansol lives the easy life as a young rich master. And if he does anything wrong, Byungjoo, his proxy, takes the blame and the punishment. And all is good until Byungjoo escapes, and Hansol meets him. There is now a flaw in their system: love</p><p>**based on Proxy by Alex London which is a really freaking good book know ♡♡♡</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Proxy

Hansol spent most of his nights at the clubs, even if it was against his Dad’s wishes. Dad. Like he deserved to be called that.

Slapping on a drug patch, Hansol relaxed back on the hood of a car, waiting for the effects. It dissolved. And went into his bloodstream. The blood stream which was now the operating system for all humans. Computers were ancient artifacts; all the data was stored in their bloodstream. Just needed a tablet to access it or some lux glasses to see it.

Which Hansol was wearing now, scanning all the girls in the club, seeing which ones were free while he waited to get his buzz. If only they were x-ray goggles. But unfortunately even the year 2103 they still have yet to make a working pair of those.

The patch dissolved into his skin and he could already feel it. His mind started to spin. His heart racing. His paranoia spiking. Oh yeah. He now had the courage to approach one fine chick. Or maybe two.

Two. That seemed like a challenge.

“Thanks Xero. But a guy has to fly. Find a girl or five.” He chuckled and hugged his friend quickly.

“See you tomorrow, Hansol.”

Hansol slid off the car and headed to the dance floor. Luckily he was the best on the dancefloor. Only second to the bedroom. All he needed to was feel the music and start to go with it; girls would be on him in seconds. It only took a couple of seconds and girls surrounded him. Rubbing against him. And the drug made every touch even more intoxicating. Mind racing, it didn't take long to get lose in the drugged haze of the music and the people. Grinding on girls, guys, in the garage-now-turned-club.

Before he knew it, he had a girl in his arms, making out with her in some old BMW. Even if his goal was two, one felt pretty damn good right now. He didn't need any more or he'd be overwhelmed.

Buzz on high, his hands roam her body, his fingers’ nerves feeling like fireworks; over-stimulated and over-excited.

Like his crotch.

The drug made him a lot more adventurous than he would typically be in public. Groping at her shirt, walking up her thigh, while shoving his tongue down her throat. But she was handsy too. Yanking at his hair, whispering sweet nothings about him being hers and needing him.

Until she finally asked: “Want to go to my place?”

There was no way to say no to that.

 

“Hansol! Hansol! Where the fuck are you!?”

Hansol kicked himself up and his lover jerked awake.

“Hansol! You better not be fucking slurs again!”

“Sluts!” She shouted, covering her top half with the covers. She takes her comforter off and stormed to the bathroom angrily. Hansol groaned and sat up, reaching over to answer his glasses.

“Now you insulted her, Dad. Hopefully the memory of my hips is enough for her.”

“You insulted me by not showing up. Again. Come home. Now.”

“How about no.”

“Now. Hansol.”

Hansol groans and slides out of bed. “On my way…” Slipping back into his boxers, he knocks on the door to the bathroom. “Duty calls. Or Dad does. I gotta go.”

Ripping the door open, she glares at him, her hair a mess. “You aren't going anywhere. You aren't just fucking and leaving.”

“I'll keep in touch…?”

That did it.

Things started flying out of the bathroom. Hairbrush. Hair dryer. Straightener. Shampoo. Anything she could find, she chucked in his direction. Hansol ran to the door without his clothes. He didn't need them. His health was more important.

“I hate you Hansol!” followed him as he ran down the stairs.

  
 

“I'm sick of your attitude.”

“And I'm sick of you.”

His father glared at him. Hansol just smirked proudly.

“Let’s get this over with. I know the drill.”

His father muttered something under his breath after Hansol spoke, but the boy didn't catch it. He flopped onto the couch, not thinking much of what his father said, and got comfortable as he waited for his punishment.

“You're a bastard child,” His father said, muttering, flicking on the screen. Byungjoo was on the screen. Byungjoo. His proxy. The one who would take the punishment for him. The one Hansol had to watch for his punishment.


End file.
